Unborn Emotion
by Yaji's Girl
Summary: Android Thirteen attempts to convert a series of biochemical reactions into true emotion.


**I watched the Android Thirteen movie a few days ago for the first time, and though I didn't particularly like him, I did like his dirty fighting. I have to say, I think he's the dirtiest fighter in the whole series. Of course, this piece doesn't reflect that - it's more a reflection on a rather peculiar speech that he gives Gohan on war, segregation, and hatred, only in the English dub. I've been writing so much humor/action lately, I just needed a one-shot to slow me down a little. Anyways, enjoy!**

The underground laboratory was dank and cold, having been uninhabited by a living being for several months now. A large computer monitor and a cylindrical tank were the only sources of light, and even they only glowed dimly. There were presently three androids encased behind metallic doors in the process of being created by this super computer, which was in charge of carrying on a task christened to it by a dead man. It bleeped and talked, its voice eerily like its creator's and echoing through the cavernous hall, but there was no life in it. There was no soul behind the machine's drive, no reason behind its will. It was simply programmed to finish these monstrosities kept behind doors, designed for no other purpose than to finish the mechanical marvels hiding in the cavern's walls.

_Androids Fourteen and Fifteen are now complete._

Dr. Gero's voice filled the room, though it was not filled with the emotion of that of a human. Even the scientist, a rather objective man, would have said such with meaning behind it, pride lurking in his words. But the machine simply stated this, a fact in itself. There was nothing more to this, their awakening merely being a part of its duty. The computer was controlled to finish these androids and after that, it would be finished with its task. Then it would simply shut off with no regard to whether the creations succeeded or failed, not caring in the slightest. The computer was simply a computer; it was impossible to put life into something that was purely mechanical.

Yet as these shiny, metallic doors slid open, the signature Red Ribbon Army insignia gleaming on each one, it could become a question of whether or not these androids were more than simply mechanical. Certainly, there was nothing more to them than wire and a variety of alloys, some biochemical plasma inside to get systems running and keep balances in check. But as the first one of these androids stepped out, tall and white with his hair tied back in a dark braid, the expression of scrutiny on his ever-pondering face seemed so troubled that one couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking of something more than what he had been designed to do. He glanced around, turning that large head of his slowly around to inspect the area, gathering senses with this new life breathed into him.

But it wasn't life, not the life known by living beings. He could see, smell, hear, taste, and feel, but he couldn't really utilize these senses. He was as clueless as the super computer when it came to such things, only using them for his one mission in life: to defeat Goku. And after he fulfilled such a task, his life would cease to exist. His existence itself would be questionable, bringing somebody to ask just why he had been brought about in the first place. Yes, he was remarkable, but what made him different from the super computer? Nothing, besides his ability to fight. He could see, but could he see the world for what it was? He could smell - he could definitely smell, something he found when he noticed the murky odor lingering in the damp laboratory - but could he really process exactly what he was smelling? And he could hear and taste, but was it possible for this brute made up of synthetic materials to really use these senses to register just what was happening around him?

And the matter of feeling was just as foreign to him. His pale fingers felt the roughened texture of the brown glove that enveloped them, and he could feel a slight draft against his bare chest, but could he really feel? There was no joy, no anger that came with this feeling. His mind was blank, only programmed for one purpose: to defeat Goku.

His partner was just as deprived of the emotion that came with being an android. Number Fifteen stepped out of his premature coffin, the death of life, to filter the thick air through his lung-like mechanisms. He furled his thin, purple fingers into fists, flexing them and staring down at them in slight awe before turning up to his larger partner. He heckled like a crow as he allowed his full lips to curve into a smirk, almost human-like. But it lacked the warmth and depth of that of a real person's, and before he could say a thing to Number Fourteen, the computer began prattling off in Dr. Gero's voice again.

_Androids Fourteen and Fifteen will destroy Goku._

The message pierced through the two androids' minds, and they promptly nodded, obeying its command. They had no idea that they were forced to follow this computer's every whim, really the creator's crazy desires, as they had no knowledge of what the freedom of choice was. They were simply robots, machines set forth for destruction. They didn't recognize their choice to destroy the whole system, to gain this foreign freedom. The world wasn't new to them, with the super computer having constantly streamed images of Earth and this certain Goku's experiences through their dormant minds while in hibernation, but the sensation of being in the world was. However, they couldn't enjoy this. They were simply androids; they had but one purpose, and one purpose alone. They gave no thought as to what might happen to them afterwards, after they completed the mission. The mission was all there was.

The small, purple android said a few words before the two departed, making their exit from the lab through a hole they blasted with their ki, something they already knew how to use thanks to the super computer's memory bank. And so they fled, eager to encounter this Goku and take vengeance on him, risking their synthetic existences for a man they didn't know, the scientist that was their creator. There was one message that bore through their minds as they flew to their destination; it was a command signaled to them through the super computer.

_Destroy Goku._

A harsh wind blew through the lab, now exposed to the cold of the outdoors with the newly created hole in the wall. The computer didn't care, however. Even if it had been programmed to feel, it wouldn't have cared - such an inconvenience couldn't distract it from its objective of finishing the androids. There was one case left, and it wouldn't be for another couple of hours before this one slid open. This android was considerably more advanced than the others. It had been started earlier than the other two, only to be finished later, even though the super computer had efficiently divided its time so as to allow each android's progress to continue at the same rate. The computer, had it been human, may have felt pride at this point. However, seeing as it wasn't human, it is impossible to determine just what kind of emotion would course through its circuitry. Excitement? Anxiety? Hatred? These didn't exist in the super computer.

Finally, as one last howling wind died down and the loose papers of the laboratory from years prior scattered about, the computer was finished. Perhaps it would have sighed with relief had it been a living being, or it would have celebrated. But the computer had no choice in the matter, not as the monitor bleeped some more, the cylindrical, glass tank towards the middle of the room having its watery contents almost froth with fervor.

_Android Thirteen is now complete._

The hiss of this first, metallic door was drowned out as another round of wind came, though it quickly died down. The door slid aside, and out stepped yet another android, this one in trousers with a small vest over his shoulders which proudly bore the Red Ribbon Army symbol, as did the cap on his forehead. He grinned cynically as his hands moved from his sides down his body, looking down with what at most could be at most the excitement of the biological processes in his body. Sparks flew from one signal to the next, his eyes telling his brain to be excited. Be excited. It took only a second before the mechanical mind of his registered such an emotion, and that was what triggered for that malicious grin on his face and the way he lifted his hands from his sides to stare at his brown gloves, twisting them carefully in admiration. If an android could feel such an emotion, of course.

He pulled at the straps of his green trousers, so overcome by this foreign feeling, this thing of excitement. His programming had certainly been more sophisticated than that of his comrades' in that he was able to register sights and relay them to his mind, triggering an appropriate reaction. In the world of robots, that was all emotions were: reactions.

He had been programmed for each of these reactions. The awe at his own existence? A reaction. The joy of the twang his trousers' straps made whenever he pulled at them? A reaction. And the happiness in the way he smiled, grinning away like a hillbilly? Another reaction. And there was the feel of a sudden rush of wind against his pale skin, forcing him to cock his head slightly as he turned it, examining the hole that had been left by his predecessors. And that evil smile grew as he realized that he actually enjoyed the feel of the wind blowing through his coarse, white strands of hair. Enjoyment. But that was a reaction, just as awe and joy and happiness were.

_Android Thirteen will destroy Goku._

His thoughts were immediately pulled from this odd thing, these reactions he had been programmed with. His mind flew to the memories placed in him of this Goku fellow during those many years spent dormant behind the metallic door, the city slicker. And the thought alone sparked another feeling, another reaction within that biochemical brain of his. He felt anger. The super computer had programmed him to feel this deep hatred, this utter loathing for this man. But why?

Number Thirteen approached the super computer quite slowly, a scowl on his face as he regarded the machine. He had been programmed to enjoy a matter of things, including the country life, the farms, the fresh air. Even his accent surprised him as he mumbled to himself, allowing a gloved hand to run over the super computer's keyboard, "This 'ere's mighty strange, I reckon." He blinked a few times after saying this, another reaction in his mind taking place. Surprise. Never in any of his memories of Goku and his friends had he heard anybody talk with this kind of accent. At first, he placed his hand around his throat, already knowing the location of his voice box. He assuaged it, curious as to why he talked like that, but he supposed it was just what he had been programmed to do. It was his duty to talk like that as it was his duty to wear these countrified clothes, to look like a certified truck driver.

Except for the muscles, which set him apart from almost every other truck driver in the world, but Number Thirteen believed them to be normal. After all, he only had memories of Goku, and his target was also muscular. That was all he knew, as the only world that was his was the world of the super computer's. He didn't even know there was such thing as somebody being overweight and pudgy. Even Android Fifteen, who he'd also been taught to recognize, wasn't fat - the purple shrimp was simply little.

He chuckled slightly at the thought of the tiny android with the large hat and that ridiculous, red bow tie. Number Thirteen had been programmed all the way down to his tastes in fashion and other areas, and the longer he exercised his robotic cranium, the more he realized just how much he liked about the country, even without having experienced any of it. He liked corn and pigs and chickens and tractors. He liked large trucks and the blaring horns that came with them. He liked plaid and boots and spurs and bandannas and the heat of a blazing sun. And with each of these likes, the same reaction took place. Happiness.

_Destroy Goku._

He glanced up at the towering screen, immediately feeling anger boil within his synthetic veins once more. He gritted his teeth as his hand curled into a ball. Then he rested it on the keyboard and closed his eyes, though even when he closed them, the images from the computer monitor still ran through his mind. There were video streams of battles having taken place between Goku and others, bits of familial fluff shown between these shots. But as he watched intently, his heart seized and a reaction took place in that mind of his.

Hatred again. And he knew why, this time. As he watched the videos of this fighting, most of it simply being during spars and training, he gritted those white teeth of his. While these men clowned around, drawing out fights for the sake of pure entertainment, there were a vast variety of problems plaguing this world of theirs. War. Segregation. Hatred. And it was this same hatred that drew out the hatred in him. They had the power to change the world, yet they didn't. They had a choice to end wars between nations, to stop segregation in the sectors, and to stamp out hatred by showing their own ability to get along, to put out matters in a peaceful way. But that wasn't how these Saiyans worked, angering him.

As of the moment, a video clip of Vegeta taking on Number Nineteen was shown in his eyelids, his eyes still kept shut. There was no escaping the streams of video that the super computer threw out at him, only angering him more. His heart raced as he saw the fat android throw senseless insults, only to be further encouraged by the short, blond-haired Saiyan. And there was his master in the background, looking extremely pleased with himself. There was his lousy creator, generating more hatred in this world. His chest shuddered slightly as he bend over, his palms now flat on the sloped surface of the super computer.

He broke the barriers, finally, of how far an android could go. He shook his head slightly, still focused on this horrible fight between Saiyan and android, muttering, "This ain't good... This ain't good..." This swelling hatred in his heart as he watched Vegeta tear off destroyed comrade's arms tore at him, and he almost reacted by lashing out at the super computer, by destroying it to bits for having shown it so much of this hatred during his time behind the metallic door. But the computer seemed to have seen this sudden release of synthetic hormones within the android, and it quickly cut the clip.

_Destroy Goku._

He was still leaning over the computer, his palms still flat on the keyboard. He panted slightly, snapped out of this sudden rage as the computer wisely kept him in check. It hadn't merely been a chemical reaction, he was convinced. Perhaps, deep down, there was another kind of hatred to be kindled, a kind that Dr. Gero hadn't programmed into him. He exhaled deeply, tucking a long strand of white hair behind his ear as he stood up.

_Destroy Goku._

And there was the voice again, the voice of his master. But now he couldn't feel that same loathing towards the man, that same hatred for senseless destruction, for killing so many innocent lives. In fact, with each time the computer talked to him, he was focused again on his target: Goku. He forgot completely about the anger towards the war and segregation and hatred generated in this world by the very man who created him. His cold heart almost ceased to beat as he backed away from the computer. Once he was a safe distance away from the keyboard, he shook his head and patted himself down, wondering now just why he had been so angry. He had a task to be fulfilled, and that was his only purpose in life.

Number Thirteen promptly tracked his fellow androids, pulling down on the cap with the Red Ribbon Army insignia resting on his head again. He smirked at his clothing as he examined it once more, the words sent by the computer having erased his emotional memory from earlier. He couldn't remember that he had already decided he liked this countrified fashion better than he liked Fifteen's crazy style. Then he pondered over everything he liked through the series of chemical reactions within his brain, starting with the basics as though he hadn't already done so earlier.

He liked corn and pigs and chickens and tractors. He liked large trucks and the blaring horns that came with them. He liked plaid and boots and spurs and bandannas and the heat of a blazing sun. In fact, he noted as he flew out of the hole created hours earlier by his partners and abandoned the decrepit lab, the only thing he hated with Goku. And this provided his sole objective in life.

_Destroy Goku._


End file.
